


Gay Divorcee

by Reioka



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Divorce, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Other, Past Domestic Violence, abuse recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-04-04 12:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14020602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reioka/pseuds/Reioka
Summary: Tony is starting over after leaving his abusive husband. Said abusive husband isn't making it easy. Luckily Steve and Bucky are there to keep an eye out while Rhodey's deployed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is fraught with emotional turmoil as Tony escapes from an abusive relationship and heals from it so please don't expect it to be as funny as the movie of the same name. Also the pairing is kind of on the back burner because of Tony's healing but I figured I should tag it because that is endgame.

Jim opened the door to his home and frowned when he saw Tony standing there, patting Peter’s back and looking very worried. He had Peter’s diaper bag, which wasn’t unusual in itself. He did have a suitcase though. That was unusual, but not concerning. Jim leaned against the doorway and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Hi, Rhodey!” Tony said, smile tremulous. “Thought we’d come for a visit!”

 

“Hi,” Jim replied, then reached out to ruffle Peter’s hair. “Hey, Pookie.”

 

Peter gave him a shy, toothy smile and shoved a handful of teddy grahams into his mouth.

 

Jim got the safety gates put up and coffee on, and Tony got Peter situated in his playpen. They were on their second cups of coffee before Tony spoke again.

 

“I’m leaving him,” he said softly.

 

Jim sat his cup down heavily. “You just finalized your adoption.”

 

Tony stared down into his coffee. “I—I came to realize that Ty only went through with it because he thought Peter would anchor me to him. He hasn’t—ever since we adopted him, Ty hadn’t been involved with Peter. I won’t have him be Peter’s Howard. And I won’t be Peter’s Maria, staying with him and hoping things will work out. It’s—it’s better to have one good parent than half a good one.”

 

Jim stared at him for a long time before he reached out and put his hand on top of Tony’s. “Hey, man. You know I’ll support you. I never liked Ty anyway.”

 

“I know,” Tony said, tears in his eyes. “I know. I should have listened to you.”

 

Jim gave his hand a squeeze. “But then you wouldn’t have gotten this cute booger—who is now escaping his playpen.”

 

“Peter!” Tony gasped, flying over to him before he could flip over the edge of the playpen onto his head.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

“Hey,” Jim said gently, grabbing Tony’s elbow and drawing him away from the window he was staring blankly out of. “Hey. It’ll be okay.”

 

“He froze all my assets,” Tony replied, voice shaking. “ _My_  assets. That I brought into the marriage. And are protected by my pre-nup.”

 

“Pepper’s working on it,” Jim reminded him. “It’ll work out. Stone’s afraid of her.”

 

Tony managed the tiniest of smiles. “Everyone’s afraid of her.”

 

“That’s ‘cause she’ll stab you in the eye with a stiletto,” Jim answered immediately.

 

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, before his smile fell again. “What did I do wrong?”

 

“Sometimes you don’t do anything wrong and it still doesn’t work out, Tony,” Jim said quietly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “C’mon, man. Let’s go on a walk.”

 

“Walk!” Peter repeated excitedly, holding his arms out to be picked up.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Tiberius was a jerk and hired a lawyer that threw his weight around more than Pepper could handle. Pepper hired a lawyer that was slowly but surely putting a case together that would free Tony of Stone forever. Still, Tony’s assets were frozen, and while he still had his penthouse apartment, Ty was there too.

 

“Listen,” Jim said as Tony sat nursing a cup of tea that Bruce had said would help after an anxiety attack. He reached out to put his hand on top of Tony’s and ignored the way it trembled made him want to find and murder Tiberius. “Listen. I’m being deployed.”

 

“Oh,” Tony said, trying to put on a brave face and missing by a mile. “Oh, I see.”

 

“You don’t have to go,” Jim added hurriedly. “ _Listen,_  I said.”

 

Tony swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

 

“I usually give the guys across the street a couple hundred bucks to keep an eye on my house, water my plants, mow my lawn when I’m gone on trips.” Jim gave his hand a squeeze. “Just stay here while I’m gone. I’ll pay you to house-sit for me.”

 

Tony stared at their entwined hands before whispering, “You’ve already done so much for me, Rhodey. I couldn’t—I couldn’t do that, I owe you so much.”

 

Jim took a deep breath, let it back out through his nose slowly. “I’m not doing it for you,” he said finally. “I’m doing it for Peter. He needs someplace safe to stay. I live in a gated community. I’ll just take that couple hundred and give it to you for groceries and stuff.”

 

Tony ran a hand through his hair, torn. “Rhodey—”

 

“ _Listen_ ,” Jim repeated sternly. “You’re like a brother to me, Tones. You know I take care of my family. Hell, when Jeanette died—” He swallowed down the anger and hurt he still felt at her passing. “—You were there for me and my parents and Lila. Of course we’re gonna be here for you too. Let me take care of you for a while, you dummy.”

 

Tony sniffled and lifted his free hand to wipe his eyes. “Why did my life have to get so fucked up, Rhodey?”

 

Jim stood up so he could pull him into a hug. “I’m just sorry I didn’t stop you from marrying that asshole.” He winced as Tony sobbed into his shoulder, lifting a hand to stroke his hair. “Hey, man, it’s okay. You got Peter out of it, didn’t you?”

 

“I don’t know what I’d do without him,” Tony admitted tearfully. “It still sucks. I didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

 

“Yeah,” Jim sighed, giving him a tight squeeze. “Yeah, I know.”

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Steve opened the door and blinked in surprise. “Colonel Rhodes!”

 

“Jim,” Jim said tiredly. “Steve, please, for the love of God, we’ve lived next to each other for three years. We’re not even the same branches.”

 

“…I fear you,” Steve said after a moment.

 

Jim thought about that, then nodded to himself, instead choosing to loom over the blond (which worked even though Steve was six foot one and built like a tank. White people.). “Good.”

 

Steve’s eyes went wide as he took a step back.

 

“I’m being deployed.”

 

“Oh,” Steve said. “You want us to keep an eye on your house.”

 

“No,” Jim said, and then tilted his head. “Well, yes. My friend’s house-sitting for me, but if you guys could keep an eye on him, make sure there’s not any shady characters around, that’d be great. He’s going through a divorce and his ex is fucking insane.”

 

Steve frowned, concerned, but he nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

 

Jim pulled out his phone to show him the lock screen, which was an adorable picture of Tony and Peter beaming at the camera with yogurt on their faces. “If you see anyone but this guy holding this baby, I want you to call the police. And if some of their bones get broken while you wait for the cops that’s okay too.”

 

“A baby,” Steve whispered, appalled that this was something they needed to be warned about. “You’ve got it, Colonel.”

 

Jim nodded, pleased, then frowned. “Oh wait. Okay there are two terrifying redheads that get to hold Peter too. But you’ll know them because they will look at you and you will feel your manhood wither and die.”

 

“I have a friend like that so I understand,” Steve told him seriously.

 

“…That explains so much about you, Steve,” Jim said, reluctantly amused.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

“I’ll be gone for a year,” Jim said.

 

Tony nodded, bouncing Peter lightly in his arms. “Okay.”

 

“I’ll Skype as often as I’m able.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Jim paused in front of the car that would be taking him to the airport, giving his friend and godson one last, fond look. “I told the neighbors to be on the lookout for any creepers. If they see anyone suspicious, they’re gonna call my landline to warn you before they call the police.”

 

Tony’s breath hitched. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

 

“When Stone dies, I’m going to piss on his grave,” Jim informed him, then leaned in to press kisses to Peter’s cheeks. “Mwah mwah mwah mwah!”

 

“Nooo Unca Rhodeeeeyyyyy!” Peter squealed, laughing. “No kissies, Unca Rhodey!”

 

“Aw, sugar pea,” Jim cooed. “But I’m leaving for a whole year! I gotta get my kisses in now!”

 

“Boo,” Peter said, scowling.

 

Tony snorted. “Aw, honey, he’s leaving for a really long time. Give him a kiss goodbye.”

 

Jim beamed as Peter grabbed his cheeks in his chubby little hands and leaned in to press a delicate kiss to his left eyebrow. “Thanks, honey lamb.”

 

“I missed,” Peter said, pressing another kiss to Jim’s forehead. Then he leaned back and waved, nearly slapping him in the face. “Buh-bye, Unca Rhodey!”

 

“You need to send me so many pictures,” Jim told Tony seriously.

 

Tony laughed. “Of course!”

 

“Lotsa pichers!” Peter agreed.

 

Jim smiled and tweaked one of his cheeks. “Thanks, honey.” He looked up at Tony, tilting his head across the street. “The guys across the street are army. They’re paranoid around the fourth but otherwise good guys. I’ve got them looking out for you.”

 

Tony squinted at him thoughtfully. “One of them is the guy that’s super terrified of you, right?”

 

“Of course he’s terrified of me,” Jim scoffed. “Which means he’ll keep an extra careful eye on you because I asked.”

 

“ _Why_  is he terrified of you?”

 

“Probably because I’m a colonel. Anyway I’ve gotta head out. Bye, Peter Rabbit,” Jim cooed, pressing one last kiss to his head, then reached out to grip Tony’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself. Call Pepper if you run into trouble.”

 

Tony nodded. “Okay. Take care, Rhodey. Come back in one piece.”

 

“Always,” Jim said, before he ducked into the car.

 

Tony walked out into the street so Peter could continue to wave, shouting ‘buh-bye Unca Rhodey!’ over and over. He glanced over at the house across the street. A blond man turned from watching Jim’s cab and paused on him, lifting his hand in an awkward wave.

 

Tony waved back shyly before adjusting his grip on his son. “Come on, Peter Pepper. Time to get lunch.”

 

“Macaroni!” Peter cheered, throwing his arms up.

 

Tony pressed his nose to Peter’s hair, taking a shaky breath. Ty was the biggest asshole in the world, but at least he had Peter.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony was trying very hard not to cry.

 

Last night he’d gotten a call from Ty—from Stone. He’d been too scared to pick it up, had let it go to voicemail. When he’d finally gotten the courage to listen to the message, it had been nothing but vitriol, telling him that he was nothing, that he’d regret leaving, he’d never make it alone and he’d ruin Peter just like Howard had ruined him. Tony had saved the message with shaking fingers and sent a text to Pepper about it to tell his lawyer for the restraining order, because she—she was being an amazing friend and handling that for him while his world fell down around his ears.

 

With the voicemail, he hadn’t been able to sleep well. He’d tossed and turned with nightmares of Stone getting custody of Peter, of Tony only being allowed to see him sparingly, of seeing bruises on Peter’s little body and Peter’s accusing eyes, as if to say ‘you could have prevented this.’ And then those nightmares were interspersed with memories of the gaslighting Stone had had made him suffer throughout their  _entire_  relationship, telling Tony he was being silly or overreacting and laughing about it, and memories of the times Stone had hit him and then apologized and made Tony feel like it was  _his_ fault, like he’d been asking for it.

 

Then Peter had woken up with an earache and Tony had had to give him medicine and Peter _hated_  taking medicine. Peter would spit out pills if they were given to him, and any attempt at giving him liquid medicine ended up with more of the dose on Peter’s clothes than in his mouth. Tony had finally had to cave and mix it in with some chocolate milk, and Peter had eyed him suspiciously the entire time he drank it because he knew he wasn’t supposed to have chocolate milk except for as dessert.

 

Once he’d set Peter down to play in his playpen, Tony had realized that he hadn’t done  _any_  yard work the past two weeks and stressed about that until he could put Peter down for his nap. He didn’t like to leave Peter alone but he knew he’d never be able to get anything done if he had to watch Peter outside, that dread that someone was watching them and reporting back to Stone always leaving him short of breath and with a cold sweat.

 

And now the fucking lawnmower wouldn’t work and Tony should have been able to fix it but he just couldn’t figure out what was wrong and Peter would  _surely_  wake from his nap soon—Tony took a shuddering breath and lifted his arm to press the back of his wrist against one eye, fingers covered with oil and muck. He would not cry. It was just a fucking lawnmower. It was just fucking  _yard work._  He had bigger problems, like his divorce and getting custody of Peter and designing the next big thing for green energy.

 

“…Why me,” Tony whispered to himself, deciding that he could feel sorry for himself just for a minute.

 

“Hey!” someone called, and Tony leapt to his feet, skittering backward. He took a moment to wish he had his handgun to protect himself with and nearly crumpled with despair at the thought, because he hadn’t—he hadn’t  _used_  to think of protecting himself first thing, especially not with  _deadly force._

 

The blond guy from across the street stared at him, wide-eyed. “Oh my God, I’m so—I’m so sorry, I thought you heard me coming up.”

 

“Oh.” Tony hunched his shoulders, embarrassed, wanting to scuttle back inside and hide. “No, I—I didn’t.”

 

“I can see that,” Blond Guy said, still looking very apologetic. “I just noticed you’d been out here a long time and—Oh, is this Colonel Rhodes’s lawnmower? It hasn’t worked in months.”

 

“O-oh?” Tony asked hopefully, because he’d worried he’d just—been too stupid to figure it out. Logically he’d known better, but after years of Ty telling him he was—well.

 

“Yeah, he’s been borrowing ours,” Blond Guy replied, shrugging.

 

Tony could probably fix it, if he had the time to worry about it instead of worrying about when Peter would wake up and if Ty had sent anyone to keep an eye on them. Hell, if he’d known about it before Rhodey left, he would have been able to fix it while Rhodey kept an eye on Peter. Tony sagged a little, feeling defeated. He didn’t have the mental stamina to deal with this now.

Blond Guy frowned at him for a long moment before thrusting his hand out. “I’m Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers.”

 

“Tony.” Tony held his hand out, saw the oil still smeared on it, and shame-facedly began to draw it back. “Oh, uh, sorry—”

 

Steve grabbed his hand anyway to shake it. “’s fine. I’ve had worse on my hands. It’s not like I wow that was a bad idea this is so much oil.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony said, reluctantly amused.

 

“My friends tell me I’m uselessly impulsive,” Steve offered. “Listen, I usually mow Colonel Rhodes’s lawn for him while he’s gone anyway. I’ll just keep doing that, okay?”

 

“Oh, um, okay,” Tony said, torn between the desire to insist he could do it himself and the relief that he didn’t have to worry about  _this_  particular responsibility. “I, um—Rhodey left me some money, I can pay you—”

 

“Nah,” Steve said immediately. “No, it’s fine. I was gonna do it anyway. Colonel Rhodes lets me sketch his hydrangeas sometimes so I figure it’s only fair.”

 

Tony stared at him for a moment. “Is. Is that a euphemism?”

 

“What,” Steve said blankly, and then turned as red as a blotchy tomato. “Oh my God, no! I mean, no. I’m an artist.”

 

“Oh,” Tony said, because he never would have guessed. Steve looked more like someone who punched Nazis in the face and then bench-pressed a wheelbarrow full of kittens with each arm when he was finished than a guy who liked to draw flowers. Tony found that… rather charming, actually. “I see. That’s nice.”

 

“Yup, I love working on florals,” Steve agreed proudly. “My boyfriend has some of my handiwork on his body, too!”

 

Oh, a boyfriend. Steve looked so happy. Tony felt a jealous pang, sick and bitter, at the bottom of his stomach. Tony wished he could be happy like that. Looking back, he’d never been as proud to say ‘my boyfriend’ or ‘my husband’ when he talked about Ty as Steve did talking about  _his_  boyfriend right now. Maybe he’d known, even then, that Stone wasn’t good to him. Maybe Howard had damaged him more than he’d thought.

 

“I—” Tony cleared his throat. “I have to go check on Peter. Maybe—maybe you’d like to do art together sometime?”

 

Tony wanted to throw up as soon as he’d suggested it. Steve was—Steve was probably busy. And he was an actual artist, not someone who finger-painted and drew stick figures. Steve was a young handsome guy with a boyfriend. Why would he want to spend time with a soon-to-be-divorcee and a toddler when he probably had an equally handsome boyfriend and an apparently lucrative art business? God,  _Tony_  didn’t even want to be friends with himself right now.

 

“Sure,” Steve said brightly. “I love doing art with kids. They’re so creative.”

 

Tony couldn’t help a smile. That was so nice. “Yeah, Petey-Bird’s the next da Vinci.”

 

Steve raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Really? Wow. Peter must be really smart.”

 

“Y-yes?” Tony fought the urge to shrink again. He thought Peter was smart, but he was his dad, it was probably—he was very biased.

 

Steve beamed at him. “I’d like to meet him sometime. Just let me know when a good time is and I’ll see what I can do!”

 

“Okay,” Tony agreed cautiously. “…Okay, yeah. Not—not this week, but, um, maybe next-?”

 

“Sure! Just go ahead and give us a knock when you decide on a time, okay? Bucky might answer and he’s got a bit of a resting bitch face but he’s actually—well, no, I’m not gonna lie, he’ll probably be a little gruff when he answers the door. He’s got a gooey caramel center in there somewhere.”

 

Tony did not say ‘that’s horrifying’ but only because he was literally too horrified to do so. “Okay.”

 

“Great!” Steve enthused. “I’ll talk to you later, then!”

 

Tony smiled awkwardly, nodding, before putting the lawnmower back together as best he could and shoving it back in the garage. He promised it that when this was all over and his life wasn’t in shambles anymore, he would spend some time fixing it.

 

Tony was giving Peter some peanut butter crackers when he heard the roar of a lawnmower. He smiled. “Steve’s mowing our lawn, Pumpkin Eater.”

 

“D’eve!” Peter garbled around the crackers, throwing his arms up cheerfully.

 

“Yup, Steve,” Tony repeated, walking over to the window so Peter could see him and put a name to a face.

 

He choked when he saw that Steve had foregone a shirt in the heat.  _Jesus Christ_  that was a lot of muscles.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Bucky sighed and flopped onto the couch face-first.

 

“Hi,” Steve said, looking up from his sketchbook. “Long day?”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

Steve frowned and set his sketchbook aside to walk over to him, beginning to rub his back. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Fucking Rumlow tried to hire me to keep an eye on his asshole client’s husband.”

 

“You don’t work with Rumlow anymore,” Steve pointed out calmly, still heated about how Rumlow’s checks for Bucky’s prior work kept  _conveniently_  getting lost in the mail. “Tell me you turned him down.”

 

Bucky jerked his head up. “I said he  _tried,_  not that he got me to do it.”

 

“Good,” Steve began, then frowned. “Oh.”

 

That meant he didn’t have a job then. Rumlow was doing his level best to make sure no one else hired Bucky as a private investigator. Bucky was the best at what he did but when he realized that Rumlow was using his information to hurt other people, he’d stopped working for him. Rumlow hadn’t taken that particularly well. Steve’s comic was selling pretty steadily but without Bucky’s paychecks their monthly budget was getting kind of tight. Bucky would probably be pissed that Steve had turned down Tony’s offer of money for the lawn—

 

“No, I got a job,” Bucky grumbled. “It’s from Natasha though. She’s the only one that hasn’t hopped on the ‘Barnes is a menace and a liar’ train.”

 

“Well,” Steve began, then stopped awkwardly. Sometimes Natasha and Bucky were the best of friends and sometimes they were at each others’ throats. He didn’t really understand most days, and he didn’t know what their relationship was right now. “Well,” he said again. “That’s something, right?”

 

“Protection detail,” Bucky whined. “I’m supposed to keep anyone her client’s husband might hire away from her client’s house.”

 

“Oh,” Steve said. Bucky hated protection details. He had been to jail for protection details and had sometimes failed to be bailed out by his clients. “Oh, well—you can, you can still say no—”

 

“No, I took it,” Bucky sighed, sitting up. “I need to do  _something._  And Natasha said it’s for a personal friend of hers. If she thinks one of her friends needs protecting, then…” He tilted his head a little. “Well, she’s paying me good money for it. And she said she’ll owe me one for it on top of that.”

 

“Oh wow,” Steve said, because Natasha owing them one? That would be good for a rainy day, honestly. “Okay. Who are you protecting? How long is the detail? Will you be gone long?”

 

“Honestly after the shit day I had I was kinda avoiding looking at it,” Bucky admitted.

 

Steve got up to grab his satchel and pulled the thick case file from it. “Gotta love how thorough she is.”

 

“I guess. Can you read it to me, hon’? I’d really like to just lie here a little while longer,” Bucky sighed, flopping back onto the couch.

 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

 

“You’re the best, babe,” he murmured, smiling a little. He waited a few minutes for Steve to start reading to him, then frowned when he didn’t, opening his eyes to look at him. “Steve? Doll? You okay?”

 

Steve stared at the file a little longer before dragging his eyes up to him, horrified. “This—this is Tony. The neighbor that Colonel Rhodes wanted us to keep an eye on? Because his husband’s a huge dick and might go after him because of his divorce?”

 

“Gimme!” Bucky barked, holding his hand out for the file, and didn’t bitch when Steve tucked his chin on his shoulder so he could read it too.

 

Tony Stark owned an electronics company that was branching out into green energy, a very lucrative business. He also had various stocks and bonds left to him by his parents’ estate, and an adorable two-year-old named Peter of whom they’d just finalized their adoption. Tiberius Stone had signed a prenup, and when Tony had served him with divorce papers, had decided to do his level best to drag it out and drain every inch of money he could from Tony, finding a judge either sympathetic enough or easily bribed enough to entertain it.

 

Natasha had been brought in by Pepper Potts, Tony’s assistant-slash-business-partner-slash-best-friend, the moment she caught wind of it. That was good, because Natasha already hated Rumlow, Stone’s lawyer, and  _loved_  going at it in the courts with him. Bucky felt his heart sink in his chest a little, because for all intents and purposes, the only thing Tony had ever done wrong was marry the wrong person, but Rumlow was going to hire someone to get information to make Tony look unfit and awful—Bucky knew that from experience.

 

“I’ll just hafta stay on my toes, ‘s all,” Bucky decided firmly.

 

Tony had enough cards stacked against him, but if Natasha thought he was worth protecting? If  _Colonel Rhodes_  thought he was worth protecting? He’d do it. Natasha was morally gray sometimes but she was freakishly protective of her friends, and Colonel Rhodes was a good man—if he thought Tony was worth protecting, Bucky believed him.

 

Besides, Steve had already told him how much Tony obviously loved his son. Bucky had always been pretty weak when it came to parents that loved their children anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony heard a knock on the door and froze, unconsciously clutching Peter tighter to his chest. He’d just—just recently gotten a vile voicemail from Stone saying he was coming for Peter. Tony had, of course, sent the voicemail to Pepper who had passed it on to Natasha, but then Natasha had called him with an ominous, ‘Batten down the hatches, Tony,’ and he’d been a nervous wreck all day. And now someone was here.

 

“Daddy, huwts!” Peter whined.

 

Tony gasped quietly and loosened his grip. “Sorry, Petie-Pie.” He pressed a few kisses to his cheek for good measure, and the toddler giggled reluctantly. Tony looked around nervously as the knock came again. “I’m—I’m coming, just a second!” Spying the closet, he hurried toward it. “Okay, Peter, you know how we talked about how bad people might be coming after us?”

 

His heart broke when Peter’s face went from a reluctant smile to a furrowed brow and frown. “I gotta hide and be quiet.”

 

“Quiet as a mouse,” Tony agreed, opening the door and carefully setting him on the floor. “And what do you do if someone who isn’t me finds you?”

 

“I scweam.”

 

“You scream  _so loud,_ ” Tony said as Peter crawled to the back of the closet. “And then you _keep_  screaming. I’m going to leave the door open a crack, honey. Remember, be quiet!”

 

Peter nodded and covered his mouth with both hands. It killed Tony a little to close the door on his face until the tiniest sliver of light caught his eye. Peter should have never had to deal with this, have to be taught to be quiet and hide because someone might come and take him against his and Tony’s wills.

 

The knock came a third time, and Tony took a shuddering breath before he went to get it. His heart leapt into his throat when he found a tall, broad man standing on the stoop, face set in a scowl. He looked like he could tie Tony into a pretzel and then throw him across a football field. Tony wished he’d thought to grab his gun before he’d answered the door.

 

“These are for you,” the man said gruffly, shoving a plate at him.

 

Tony had no choice but to grab it. Well, at least he could use the plate as a weapon now. “I—Oh, cookies. Um. Thank you.” Maybe this guy wasn’t a thug.

 

“Gluten, egg, and nut free,” the man grunted.

 

Tony frowned. Maybe this man  _was_  a thug and was actually trying to kill him via bland food. “You just sucked all the fun out of these cookies.”

 

“Steve didn’t know if Peter had allergies,” the man grunted.

 

Tony stared at him, confused. Then it hit him— _Steve._  Rhodey’s hot blond neighbor. And this—this must be Steve’s grumpy boyfriend. It figured that Steve’s boyfriend would be equally attractive. What had Steve said his name was? Something kinda dumb, if Tony was being honest.

 

“I’m Bucky,” the man said, thrusting his hand at him.

 

Tony took it mostly on instinct. Right.  _Bucky._  What an awful name. “I’m Tony. Oh!” He shoved the plate back at Bucky and rushed back over to the closet, pulling the door open hurriedly. “Peter, it’s alright. It’s just one of our neighbors.”

 

Peter wiped at his eyes and sniffled a little before holding his arms out to him. Tony plucked him up and clutched him to his chest, running a hand up and down his back and murmuring apologies.

 

Once Peter had calmed down, Tony turned, embarrassed. Bucky looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. “Sorry.”

 

“Jesus,” Bucky said, appalled, and Tony flinched a little. “I just—No  _wonder_ Natasha hired me.”

 

Tony blinked at him. “What.”

 

“Natasha, your lawyer?” Bucky replied, raising an eyebrow. “She hired me to protect you.”

 

Tony narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “Natasha didn’t tell me anything about you.”

 

“Yeah, that mighta been a secret,” Bucky said after a pause. “But man—you have your kid hiding in the closet in case someone comes after you. No wonder she texted me and told me to introduce myself to you.”

 

Tony stared at him warily, unable to help his disbelief. Why hadn’t Natasha told him about Bucky? Why hadn’t  _Steve?_

 

“Listen,” Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes. “I can prove it. I’ll call Natasha and put it on speakerphone.”

 

“Auntie ‘tash!” Peter exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

 

Tony sputtered. “Wha— _Peter,_  not every woman named Natasha is going to be your aunt!”

_“What,”_  came Natasha’s sharp voice through the phone.

 

“Except this time she is,” Tony added, confused, as Peter cheered.

_“Tony? Peter? **Bucky what the** —”_ There was a cough as Natasha caught herself.  _“…heck. I said introduce yourself to Tony, not spill that I hired you to be his long-distance bodyguard.”_

 

“He had his kid in the closet,” Bucky replied, and Tony fought the urge to wilt. He wasn’t sorry for trying to protect his son, even if it sounded bad.

 

“Auntie ‘tash!” Peter exclaimed, leaning toward the phone, and Bucky gamely held the phone closer to him. “Auntie ‘tash, I was reawy quiet! As a mouse!”

 

Natasha’s voice softened into a deep, sweet coo.  _“Did you, darling? I’m so proud of you. You’re a good boy to listen to your daddy.”_

 

Peter blushed and covered his face.

 

“Aw,” Tony said, smiling reluctantly. “What do we say when people compliment us, baby?”

 

“Thank you,” Peter mumbled, embarrassed.

_“Well,”_  Natasha said after a moment.  _“I wanted Bucky’s involvement to be secret for a while so he wouldn’t spook you or anything, but…”_  She sighed.  _“But I guess Stone spooked you more. Listen, Bucky’s good. He’s **great.**  He hasn’t failed me yet and he’s not going to fail me now.”_

 

“Yeah?” Tony asked skeptically.

_“I’ll kill him myself if he fails,”_  Natasha told him seriously.

 

Tony stared at the phone. “…I think you’re a mafia don,” he decided.

 

Natasha snorted.  _“You always think I’m a mafia don. I’m not. I don’t have time to rule the criminal underworld.”_

 

“It frightens me that that is the only reason why,” Tony admitted.

_“Listen, I have a client meeting that started a few minutes ago. I should probably get to them since they’re paying me. If Stone leaves you anymore voicemails, send them to me,”_  she ordered sternly.  _“Especially if they’re threatening like the last one. Worst case scenario, I move in with you guys and commute.”_

 

“Yaaaay!” Peter crowed, flailing. “Auntie ‘tash!”

_“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, зайчик?”_  Natasha cooed.  _“Once this big dumb trial is over, I’m taking you and your daddy out on a picnic and stuffing you with sweets.”_

 

Tony’s groan could just barely be heard under Peter’s cheering.

_“Take care of them, Barnes, or I’m going to skin you alive,”_  Natasha added cheerfully.

 

Tony was appalled, but Bucky didn’t look fazed in the slightest.

 

“G’bye,” Bucky said, then hung up, and then thrust the plate of cookies at them again. “Please don’t make me eat these.”

 

“I don’t want them!” Tony exclaimed, before his manners caught up with him.

 

Peter grabbed two cookies and jammed one into his mouth. Then he let out a disgusted ‘bleh!’ and spit it out, dropping the other to the floor. He looked up at Bucky, betrayed.

 

“It’s not my fault!” Bucky defended immediately. “Steve didn’t want me to kill you with allergens!”

 

“You’ve made sad disks is what you’ve done,” Tony said, the corner of his lip quirking up. He took a cookie just so Bucky would stop looking so constipated and bit into it. “…This is the driest shit I’ve ever tasted.”

 

“The batter was awful, too,” Bucky admitted. He stared at the plate of cookies before turning it over, watching them fall to the ground. “Oh no, I’ve dropped them.”

 

Tony covered his mouth to hide his smile.

 

Peter pointed at him accusingly. “You did that on puwpose!”

 

Bucky seemed to ponder this. “…Yeah, but they tasted like dirt anyway.”

 

Peter pointed at him a moment longer before letting his hand fall, conceding reluctantly.

 

Bucky stared at him for a long time before he asked, “Do you have any allergies?”

 

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it when he realized he was talking to Peter. When Peter looked up at him unsurely, he quietly said, “You know your no-no foods, Peter.”

 

Peter nodded sharply and turned back to Bucky. “Twee nuts.”

 

“Tree nuts?” Bucky’s brow furrowed. “Glad I didn’t make peanut butter cookies then.”

 

“Oh, he can have peanut butter,” Tony cut in, bouncing Peter so he’d laugh, and smiling when Peter let out a happy shriek. “Peanuts are a ground nut. He can’t have nuts like walnuts, almonds, pecans. Can’t have pine nuts either. I tell you, my mother rolled over in her grave when I adopted a kid that can’t eat pesto.”

 

“Pwesto!” Peter exclaimed, throwing his hands up, then patted at Tony’s face. “Down, Daddy! Down!”

 

“Okay, okay,” Tony said, setting him down, and watched as Peter toddled off to the coffee table to continue their puzzle. Once sure that he was occupied, Tony turned back to Bucky, belatedly adding, “Oh, uh, did—did you wanna come inside?”

 

Bucky looked down at the cookies on the floor, then back up at him. “No.”

 

“Alright.” Tony stared up at him for a moment before he asked, “Are you really as good as Natasha thinks?”

 

“I taught her everything she knows,” Bucky began, then stopped himself. “I taught her  _most_  of the things she knows. The rest she developed to kill me and take my power.”

 

Tony giggled reluctantly. “That’s awful.”

 

“Well, she’s a lawyer.” Bucky fiddled with the plate, frowning down at his shoes, before looking back up at him. “Listen, I just—I want you to know, I’ve got your back. I’ve done this for years, even worked for Rumlow for a while, so I know what to expect from him. I’m gonna take care of you guys.” He glanced at Peter, turning the plate in circles in his hands. “You won’t have to hide your kid in a closet ever again.”

 

Tony flinched and turned to look at Peter again. Normal kids didn’t have to learn how to hide and be very quiet. Normal kids didn’t have to worry about someone other than their daddy grabbing them and taking them away. Peter deserved better. And he didn’t even know it.

 

“Hey,” Bucky said quietly. “You’re protecting your kid. I’m gonna protect both of you.” He reached out his hand, and Tony held his out dumbly, jumping when something cold was pressed to his palm. “You think you’re in immediate danger, you come over to hide. It’ll buy you some time. Steve knows and he’s ready for you. He stays home most days anyway. Okay?”

 

Tony stared at the key in his hand, then curled his trembling fingers over it. Who knew that when he’d served Tiberius with divorce papers, he’d have to go hide in his best friend’s neighbors’ house? God, he wished he could just go back and change everything.

 

“Hey,” Bucky said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. As bad as this may sound, you’re not he first guy whose spouse is a complete psycho. I’ve worked a lot of these types o’ cases.”

 

That did make him feel better, in a strange way. Sometimes Tony felt like  _he_ was the crazy one, with the way Tiberius treated him, like he somehow deserved it. Logically, he knew that that wasn’t the case. He’d—he’d suffered a lot of gaslighting in the relationship. His therapist said so. (And it hurt to know that he’d needed a therapist to get away from Tiberius; that his therapist might need to testify on his behalf. He felt so weak, that he’d needed someone to tell him ‘you don’t deserve to be hit, Tony.’)

 

“I’ve got your back,” Bucky repeated, patting his shoulder, then turned to leave.

 

Tony sniffed and hurriedly wiped a tear from his cheek. “I hope—” He cleared his throat. “I hope you don’t have too many of those awful cookies left.”

 

Bucky looked pained. “I’m gonna make Stevie eat ‘em.”

 

Tony couldn’t help a laugh at the image that came to mind of Steve trying to choke down those dry-ass cookies.


	4. Chapter 4

There was someone in the backyard.

 

Tony scrambled to get Peter into his arms, shushing him when Peter whined in confusion. “There’s a bad man here, Peter,” he whispered, and Peter woke up the rest of the way with a jolt. He whimpered but fell quiet immediately after, little hands covering his mouth, and Tony wanted to  _die_  because normal kids didn’t react like that.

 

Tony crouched by the front door and frantically tried to figure out where to go. He didn’t have much time. He could hear Rhodey’s back door being jimmied. And who was to say that there wasn’t more than one person out there? What if they were waiting for them to leave the house? What if they—what if they hurt Peter?

 

“Dada,” Peter whispered, patting at his cheeks. “Dada, Buchhh.”

_Bucky._  Tony looked at the key hanging from his wrist. Natasha had told him to put all his important keys on a chain and keep them on him at all times. Who knew that it would come in handy this soon? And Bucky had said that they could come over anytime they felt unsafe. Well, he felt incredibly unsafe right now. It was just across the street. He could make that. Or he could buy Peter enough time that  _he_  could make that and start screaming at their door.

 

There was no one out front. Tony hustled across the lawn and nervously skirted the car sitting in front of the house. There was no one in it, but he was still terrified of the fact that whoever was breaking into Rhodey’s house was bold enough to literally park right out front. They’d obviously planned a quick getaway. He forced himself not to think about why that was.

 

His hand shook as he tried to put the key in the door. Tony bit his lip to bite back the frightened curses he wanted to spew. He was wasting time. It wouldn’t take long for the intruder to realize that he and Peter weren’t there, that the front door was open. Shit, closing the door could have bought them more time. Stupid, stupid. He was so  _stupid._

 

Tony couldn’t help the noise that left his mouth when the door jerked open and was ashamed of how high-pitched and terrified it was because Peter hid his face in his neck and whimpered in response. Bucky looked him up and down with bloodshot eyes before he looked across the street.

 

He let out a growl and stepped outside, one hand pressing against Tony’s back as he shoved past him. “Get inside. Lock the door.”

 

Tony didn’t have to be told twice, skittering into the house and smacking immediately into Steve’s chest. “Ow! What are you, made of rocks?!”

 

“Tony?” Steve mumbled, rubbing one eye sleepily, before he suddenly looked infinitely more awake. He slammed the door shut and locked it, then turned and hurried Tony further into the house. “C’mon, c’mon.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Tony said helplessly as he was urged into the bathroom. “Bucky said anytime—”

 

“He meant it,” Steve assured him, grabbing a towel and putting it on the floor of the tub. “Get in.”

 

Tony looked stricken but did as he was told. He appreciated the towel. The porcelain was cold. “I—”

 

“Shh,” Steve whispered sharply as he flipped the lock, and then shut the bathroom door behind him.

 

Tony clutched Peter to his chest, biting his bottom lip, then whispered, “I’m sorry, baby. This is all Daddy’s fault.”

 

Peter’s chubby little hands patted at his cheeks and he murmured something but Tony couldn’t make it out with his son’s face smushed into his chest. Tony sank further into the tub and clutched him as tight as he dared—he hated gripping Peter too tightly after that first time. Peter made a little whining sound and curled his fingers into Tony’s shirt.

 

It felt like hours but was probably only minutes before a knock came at the bathroom door. Both Tony and Peter flinched.

 

“Tony,” Steve said. “Tony, it’s us. You can open the door.”

 

Tony curled around Peter tighter. It took effort to unwrap his arms from around him, and he carefully tucked Peter into the corner. “Stay here, Petey-Pie.”

 

Peter whined and made grabby hands at him as he got up but obediently stayed where Tony had put him. “Daddy-!”

 

Tony hesitated before grabbing the lid off the back of the toilet and approaching the door. He unlocked the door and the knob twisted immediately.

“WHOA,” Steve shouted as he ducked out of the way of the back of the toilet’s lid. It hit the wall with a dull thud and left a fist-sized hole in the drywall. “TONY!”

 

Tony lunged out swinging, but Bucky grabbed his wrists and spun him around into a secure hold. “It’s just us, Tony!”

 

Tony struggled for a moment but then Steve was cupping his cheeks, tilting his head back to force eye contact. “Tony, Tony, it’s just us! No one is going to take Peter away from you. You’re okay. You’re both okay.”

 

Tony squirmed a minute longer, then sagged in Bucky’s hold with a sob. Bucky gently released him, holding him up when he stumbled on loose legs. “You’re okay,” he repeated. “You’re safe.”

 

“I’m never going to be safe,” Tony sobbed, covering his face. “Not while Tiberius is around. Even if I get my divorce he’s going to do everything he can to make me miserable. I’m always going to be looking over my shoulder. He’s ruined my life and it’s never going to get better.”

 

Steve and Bucky shared a look before Steve ducked into the bathroom and gently shut the door.

 

Bucky pulled Tony up against his chest and let him sob there, stroking his hand up and down his back. “Hey, hey. I don’t know how long you’ve known Natasha, but I guess not long enough. Your ex may be dragging this out but she’s going to make sure he  _never. Bothers you. Again._  It’s what she does,” he added when Tony made a noise of disbelief. “She became a lawyer so she could make people miserable legally. You don’t even wanna know what she did before she became a lawyer.”

 

Tony sniffled into his chest. “Was she a mafia don?”

 

Bucky opened his mouth, then shut it again. “…Uh.”

 

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

 

Tony turned to stare at it blankly before letting out a frustrated sound and wiping his face. He couldn’t let Peter see him like this. Bucky awkwardly patted him on the back before saying, “You can come out, Steve.”

 

Steve opened the door and peeked out, then pulled it open the rest of the way. Peter whined and reached for Tony immediately. Tony took him and pressed the boy’s teary face to his neck, making soothing noises.

 

“First time I ever had to knock to come  _out_  of the bathroom,” Steve mused, smiling a little.

 

The laugh it pulled from Tony was reluctant, but it came.

 

“I’ll make some cocoa,” Bucky said gruffly and hurried away.

 

Steve snorted as Tony watched him leave with concern. “People in distress make Bucky uncomfortable.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tony began helplessly.

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Steve insisted. “It’s fucking hilarious.”

 

“I know dat word!” Peter exclaimed, lunging backward, and Tony yelped as he tried to keep him from falling. He pointed at Steve accusingly. “Tennew foh the sweah jah!”

 

“I don’t even have a dollar for the swear jar,” Steve said helplessly. “Will you accept a quarter?”

 

“Ten,” Peter said sternly, opening his hand.

 

Steve looked at Tony for help.

 

“Larger amounts of money make you consciously avoid swearing in front of my son,” Tony said, struggling not to smile. “I put in a hundred each time when I started. One time I stubbed my toe and had to put in two grand.”

 

“But I don’t have ten dollars,” Steve sputtered.

 

Peter’s face was accusing. He did not stop reaching for the nonexistent money.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

“It was one of your basic thugs, scared ‘im off no problem,” Bucky muttered, shrugging one shoulder after Peter had finally, fitfully, fallen back to sleep on their couch. “Maybe put the fear of God into ‘im. None of his friends are gonna be accepting money t’ come kidnap your kid, in any case.”

 

“Thanks,” Tony whispered down into his mug of cocoa. His hands were shaking. He gripped the mug tightly to try to stop it.

 

“’m gonna call Colonel Rhodes,” Bucky continued. “Ask if I can put some cameras up, maybe a better security system.”

 

 

“I can’t—I can’t pay for that,” Tony said haltingly.

 

Bucky gave him a very, very unimpressed stare. “You’re not gonna. Natasha is.”

 

“But—”

 

“Natasha is,” Bucky repeated sternly, and then scowled, leaning over to glare out of the kitchen. “Steve, what the hell are you doin’?”

 

“I’ve only got eight dollars and ninety-three cents,” Steve whispered, trying to dig around in the couch around Peter. “I owe Peter ten.”

 

Bucky sighed tiredly. “Why do you owe Peter ten dollars?”

 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Steve hissed. He made a victorious sound. Another quarter. He only needed eighty-two more cents.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Bucky swore in front of Peter in the morning. Peter wordlessly held his hand out. Bucky made very intense eye contact with him until Peter hesitantly drew his hand back in.

 

“What the fuck I had to give him ten dollars!” Steve howled, incensed, and then squawked when Peter held his hand out to him instead. “What?! You didn’t make Bucky pay!”

 

“Bucky’s scawy,” Peter explained reasonably.

 

Steve muttered to himself as he went to go dig in the couch again. He very carefully made sure that his mutters contained no swear words though. (Bucky eventually took pity on him and took a ten out of his wallet. Steve howled about Bucky making him dig in the couch while Peter was sleeping. Tony skittered back to Rhodey’s house after reassurance that it had been cleared and Bucky had cleaned up whatever mess he’d made.)

 

They were on edge for several hours—Peter couldn’t even go down for a nap—when Natasha arrived, grim-faced and angry. “I’m putting up security cameras. Here’s your better security system.”

 

Tony looked down at the golden retriever. “…It’s missing an eye.”

 

“He’s very loyal. Also Clint will be staying with you.”

 

“Who is Clint.”

 

“Clint will try to feed Lucky pizza but please make sure he gets at least one scoop of kibble.”

 

“I can’t be responsible for a dog. I’m barely responsible for Peter.”

 

“Also here’s the ten for Bucky swearing in front of Peter.”

 

Tony stared at the ten she’d put in his hand before looking back up at her. “What.”

 

“Go take Peter out,” Natasha said softly. “Get out. Do something. Bucky will shadow you so that you’re safe. You guys deserve to do something fun.”

 

“I—I don’t have the money,” Tony said helplessly.

 

“I’m pretty sure you have thirty dollars,” Natasha said reasonably. “Bucky probably knows what you can do for fun that’s only thirty dollars.”

 

“I can’t give someone seven dollars in change!” Tony exclaimed, horrified.

 

Natasha stared at him for a moment before snorting so hard that it sounded like it hurt. “Oh my God. Here. Here’s a twenty. Go do something fun on me. Who gave you seven dollars in change?”

 

Tony shrugged awkwardly. “Steve.”

 

“I bet he dropped an F bomb. He doesn’t swear by halves,” Natasha mused, smiling a little. “Go. Do something fun. Don’t forget to take Lucky out for a walk.”

 

“I didn’t agree to this dog,” Tony tried to argue.

 

“Peter did,” Natasha said, turning her back on him to boss around the people installing cameras around Rhodey’s house.

 

Tony turned and squawked when he found Peter sprawled over Lucky, asleep. “Peter! You can’t just lie on strange anim—oh for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, crossing his arms. He’d scold Peter when he woke up.

 

He needed the sleep after last night, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky took them out to a restaurant with a play place and a giant animatronic mouse. “You’ve never been in a Chuck-E-Cheese,” Bucky asked in disbelief when Tony had stared at the animatronics in horror. “It’s pizza and a place for kids to play. They even have pads for your knees so you can follow him around in the tunnels. How have you never been here.”

 

“Are you calling me old?” Tony asked him snidely, and then swallowed his pride and took the knee-pads because holy shit what were the tunnels made out of, rocks? At least Peter had fun.

 

“Sorry,” Bucky said as he drove them home. Peter was tuckered out in the back seat, hands full of the little plastic frogs he’d bought with his tickets. “I shoulda been keeping a better eye on you. Didn’t expect your ex t’ escalate as fast as he did.”

 

Tony stared out the window, frowning, before quietly answering, “Our relationship was like that, too. Things would be okay and then suddenly get terrible. Then they’d be okay again… for a while.” He bit his bottom lip before softly adding, “I thought he might actuallly kill me when I left, so I fled with Peter in the middle of the night with nothing but his diaper bag and the clothes on our backs. I didn’t even put on shoes. I was afraid they’d make too much noise.”

 

Bucky made an angry sound and glanced back at Peter before directing his attention back on the road. “’m glad you had Peter,” he finally managed after a few minutes. “You might feel bad ‘cause you put your kid in danger, but if you hadn’t had him, you probably woulda stayed with that asshole and then he probably  _would_ have killed you. And then he woulda gotten off with a slap on the wrist ‘cause he’s got money. ‘m glad you had a reason t’ get out. Guys like that… guys like that, they make you feel like you deserve it. Like they’re the best you’ll ever get because you don’t deserve anything better. But you knew—you knew that Peter deserved better. Maybe one day Peter will make you realize that  _you_  deserved better, too.”

 

Tony covered his mouth with one hand, tears in his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat, cleared it, slid his hand up from his mouth to cover his hot eyes instead. “Sound like you’re speaking from experience,” he finally managed, trying to make it sound like a joke, but his voice cracked on the end and ruined it, and he almost broke down sobbing instead.

 

Bucky’s eyes darted toward him before returning to traffic. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’ve seen it happen too many times to good people. Maybe I just read too fuckin’ much. It doesn’t matter if I’m right. And I can see it in your face—I’m right. He woulda killed you. And you know it.”

 

Tony choked on a sob. “How could I bring a baby into that house?” he asked tearfully. “I knew Ty was doing it so he could keep hold on me but I was so tired of being alone in our marriage. He thought I wouldn’t leave if he gave me a baby to protect, and I let him give me one. And now Peter’s in danger all because I was so selfish.”

 

“I think you knew, unconsciously,” Bucky began slowly. “That you couldn’t save yourself, but you’d save Peter. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

 

Tony turned to give him a wet glare. “I put a  _baby_  in  _danger._ ”

 

Bucky tilted his head thoughtfully. “Peter looks okay t’ me. And he loves you more ‘n anything in the world. I don’t think it’s any different ‘n when women have biological babies with their abusers. ‘sides,” Bucky added solemnly. “I think if your ex touched one hair on Peter’s head, you’d rip his hands off and make him eat them.”

 

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again, a slightly hysterical giggle escaping his lips. “That’s certainly a mental image.”

 

“Steve says that’s what I look like I wanna do every time an old lady pinches his butt,” Bucky deadpanned.

 

Tony snorted so hard trying not to laugh that he hit his head on the window. “Ow!”

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

There was a man sitting on Rhodey’s doorstep. Tony tightened his grip on the armrests and wondered if maybe Bucky was just going to drive on by when he saw the possible threat—

 

And then the blond toppled backward over the handrail and into one of the hydrangeas.

 

Tony turned to look at Bucky. Bucky’s lips were pressed into a thin line of disapproval.

 

The man popped up out of the bushes, looking harried, and crawled back over the handrail onto the doorstep. He tried to look like nothing had happened. He had a twig in his hair and dirt all over the front of his shirt.

 

“I’m not gonna lie,” Bucky said after a moment. “That probably didn’t inspire a lot of confidence, but rest assured that Clint is actually a competent martial artist and marksman. He’s just a disaster as a human being.”

 

“He works for you?!” Tony spluttered.

 

Bucky looked pained. “I mean. We both work for Natasha but I’m running point on this job so… yes?”

 

“He’s covered in Hello Kitty bandages.”

 

Bucky sighed.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Clint was… interesting. He and Bucky talked in a different language in front of Tony but he caught the most important word—help. (His mother had insisted he learn the words ‘please,’ ‘help,’ and ‘thank you’ in almost every language she could think of before he travelled abroad. Who knew it would help him this far in life too?) Then Clint babbled something that included ‘Natalia’ and looked terrified and Bucky had also looked terrified before schooling his face back into its resting bitchiness.

 

“Who’s Natalia?” Tony asked nervously. Was it someone Tiberius had hired? God, he hoped not. If it was someone who could make even Bucky look scared then—

 

“I am Natalia,” Natasha said, and both Bucky and Clint yelped and jumped around to face her. Natasha gave them both a look of supreme disappointment before walking over to lightly pinch one of Peter’s cheeks. “I changed it to Natasha when I came to America.”

 

“The Russian mob,” Tony gasped. It made so much sense now.

 

Natasha gave him one of her bitchier looks that conveyed ‘if I didn’t like you I’d stab you somewhere meaty.’ “I’m not part of the Russian Mob.”

 

“Is that because you killed everyone to get out?” Tony asked her seriously. He was pretty sure the reason she didn’t  _actually_  stab him was because he was holding Peter and also because Bucky and Clint snorted and she decided scaring them would be much easier than trying to cow Tony into believing she  _wasn’t_ a mafia don.

 

“I have cameras up,” Natasha said after she’d finished quietly chewing the pair out in Russian(?). “There’s a brand new alarm system and only you, Bucky, and Clint are to have the code. I’ve put in a new nightstand next to your bed with a gun safe built into it and Pepper has supplied one of your handguns that you had her store for you. I’ve moved Peter’s bed away from your window and put bars on it that need a code to open in case of fire.

 

“Clint will be in the next room. I know this might not be comfortable but I need you to sleep with your door open now. Lucky is a very alert dog and if someone tries to get to you, he will hear it long before you do and will need to get in to protect you. If the alarm is not disengaged, I will get a notification on my phone and I will immediately call the police. I’ve also picked up a new burner phone for you,” she added gently, holding it out to him. “Everyone who is important has the number. Give me your old phone. It’s just full of garbage from Stone anyway. This way I can monitor it and add it to your file against him.”

 

Tony nodded sadly and reached out for the phone. He wondered how he was ever going to be able to repay Natasha and Pepper and Rhodey for all of their help. God, Rhodey wasn’t even here and he was allowing people to just come into his home and hook up cameras to keep him safe. Tony buried his face in Peter’s hair, overwhelmed.

 

Peter made some very confused noises before thrusting his handfuls of plastic frogs at Natasha. “Look, Auntie ‘tash! I got frogs!”

 

“Oh goody,” Natasha said, only belatedly remembering not to sound unenthused. She wasn’t fond of frogs.

 

“I got you one,” Peter declared. “Wed like yuw haiw.”

 

“Aw,” Natasha said, immediately melting, and accepted the little plastic frog with pride. “Thank you, зайчик. Did you have fun with your daddy and Bucky?”

 

“Buch ate a whoe pizza by hisself!” Peter exclaimed, throwing his arms up.

 

Tony nodded in agreement. “He did. It was horrifying.”

 

“Aw, I want a whole pizza to myself,” Clint mumbled petulantly.

 

Natasha turned to give him a long, silent look before returning her attention to Tony and Peter. “Did you do anything else fun besides watching Bucky eat an entire pizza by himself?”

 

“Daddy banged his head in the tunnew and cwied!” Peter exclaimed excitedly.

 

Natasha giggled inelegantly at the offended face Tony made at that. “Cried?”

 

“It was made of rocks!” Tony insisted, and turned his nose up and stomped into the bathroom to try and convince Peter to use the toilet when Natasha started laughing at him.

 

Natasha waited until he was gone before rounding on Bucky and Clint again. “I need you to understand that Tony is not just my client—he is my friend,” she said quietly. “And if anything ever happened to him or Peter—I would never be able to forgive myself for not doing more. Pepper told him that I could handle his company’s legal team and he took her at her word, no questions asked, and then when I left to open my own practice, he let me take my desk.”

 

“That beautiful antique piece?!” Clint sputtered, and then scowled when Bucky turned to raise his eyebrows at him. “Don’t gimme that look. I can know about antique furniture. I contain multitudes.”

 

“Sometimes I really wonder about you, Clint,” Bucky replied.

 

“Yes, that beautiful antique piece. He said it belonged to his father so I doubt he had any real attachment to it, but the fact that he let me take something so beautiful and expensive was telling of him as a person,” Natasha answered, ignoring them. “He’s probably forgotten all about it. In fact, I’m sure he has, otherwise Pepper wouldn’t have had to be the one contacting me. I don’t think Tony will ever understand how willing I am to go to bat for him.”

 

“I get the feeling that there’s a reason for that,” Bucky said solemnly.

 

Natasha looked angry and sad and helpless all at once. “I will make sure that Stone can _never_ hurt Tony and Peter again if it’s the last thing I do. But I need your help to protect him. I need you to understand how invested I am in this. Tony—Tony’s my friend. I won’t fail him.”

 

“And we won’t fail you,” Clint answered immediately, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Tasha. Between me and Bucky, Tony and Peter are safe as can be.”

 

Natasha turned her head away, allowing herself exactly five seconds to be overwhelmed with gratitude, before turning back to them with a determined scowl. “I’m trusting you with this.”

 

“You handle getting his ex out of his life, and we’ll handle keeping Tony and Peter safe,” Bucky promised her.

 

Natasha offered a little smile and opened her mouth to thank them. They leaned forward in anticipation because they knew what an occasion it was for her to do so.

 

“PETER NO,” came Tony’s shout, and they turned just in time to watch Peter run, giggling, through the living room. He had no pants on.

 

“Look at the little streaker go,” Clint said.

 

“WILL YOU HELP ME,” Tony snarled after he’d chased Peter around the coffee table three times.

 

“What, no, that’s not my job,” Clint squawked.

 

Bucky turned to leave. “Not mine either.”

 

Tony stopped chasing Peter to give both of them a long, betrayed look. “I will remember this,” he said, in a way that both Bucky and Clint were made just slightly nervous.

 

Natasha snatched Peter up and tickled him. “C’mon, зайчик. Your daddy said it’s time to potty.”

 

“I don’t gotta potty,” Peter whined.

 

“Yes, well, you’re going to try,” Natasha said, matter-of-fact, and Peter proved he took after his father by sighing in defeat as he laid his head on her shoulder.

 

Tony wished he could get Peter to obey him like that, but then, he didn’t think he could pull off casually terrifying and ready to rip throats out like Natasha could. He jumped when he felt something cold and wet touching his palm, jerking around in surprise, and sighed when he found Lucky there, tail wagging. He awkwardly reached out to pat the dog on the head.

 

“Wow,” Clint said, crossing his arms, but he was smiling with a little amusement. “It’s almost as if you’ve never owned a dog.”

 

“I was never allowed a dog,” Tony admitted, kneeling, and reached out to rub under Lucky’s jaws, giggling a little when he pushed the loose skin up and made his cheeks look super big. “And then I met Tiberius and he didn’t like dogs. I always wanted one,” he added softly. “But Ty said they smelled bad. Didn’t even tell me he was allergic—just didn’t like the way dogs smelled.”

 

Bucky and Clint shared a look before the brunet mentioned checking the perimeter of the property and the new camera and alarm system. He took his leave without waiting for a response.

 

Clint knelt next to Tony and reached out to scratch behind one of the dog’s ears as Tony squished his cheeks together again and again. “You know,” he began, and waited for the other man to make a noise of acknowledgement before he continued. “You can tell a lot about a man who doesn’t like dogs.”

 

Tony paused, Lucky’s cheeks squished between his hands. He watched the dog’s tongue loll out of his mouth in a smile, apparently unperturbed by his position. “…Yeah?”

 

“I mean, who doesn’t like dogs?” Clint replied. He pulled lightly on Lucky’s ear and the canine didn’t even flinch. “I mean, aside from people who’ve been attacked by ‘em. But they have reasons for not liking dogs. People who don’t like dogs for no reason? Usually not good people. Heck, even Natasha likes Lucky.” He leaned in to whisper, “But I’m pretty sure that’s only because Lucky’s saved my ass, like, a bunch of times.”

 

“Sweah jah!” Peter exclaimed, making them both jump. He pointed at Clint accusingly. “Ten!”

 

“Joke’s on you, kiddo, I’m fuckin’ poor,” Clint retorted immediately.

 

“I will give you money for Clint,” Natasha said magnanimously when Peter wavered and looked up at her in concern. She gave Clint a very significant look. “Because we’re friends. For now.”

 

“Eep,” Clint squeaked, suitably terrified, and the redhead grinned smugly in response.

 

He probably wouldn’t be swearing in front of Peter anymore.

 

“Natasha, look at this.  _Squish._  Look at his face. Do all dogs do this? What do they need all this extra skin for?”

 

Natasha smiled a little. “I thought you said you didn’t want a dog.”

 

“I said I couldn’t be responsible for a dog,” Tony corrected her. “Not that I didn’t want one.”

 

Natasha opened her mouth, then closed it again, conceding. “Where’d Barnes go?”

 

“Escaped,” Clint said with a shrug. Before Tony could get distressed about being too much of a bother, he added, “I think not swearing actually tired him out.”

 

Natasha noticed Tony’s confused stare and said, “He and Steve are from Brooklyn.”

 

Tony nodded slowly. “That makes so much sense now.” He looked at Lucky for a long moment before looking back up at Peter. “I bet you could ride Lucky like a horse.”

 

“No!” Clint and Natasha snapped, and Clint lamented that he was going to have to teach a toddler and a grown-ass man how to own a dog.


	6. Chapter 6

Lucky growled.

 

Tony jerked awake immediately at the sound, mostly because he found it terrifying but also because he remembered what Natasha had said, that Lucky could hear things better than he could. He reached out to turn the lamp on, then thought better of it—if there was someone outside lurking, he didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he was awake. Instead he rolled off of the bed, crawled over to the window where Lucky was growling, and hesitantly, carefully wrapped an arm around him.

 

Lucky let out a quiet ‘boof’ but relaxed slightly under his arm. Tony stroked over his head and murmured a distracted ‘good boy’ as he peered over the sill out the window.

 

There was someone out there. Tony’s hand trembled around the grip he had on Lucky’s fur. He watched as the person made their way closer to the house, hugging the dog closer to his body with every step. He was just about to get up and grab Peter to run for it when all of the sudden something—leapt off of the roof?!

 

Tony gaped as he watched the two people scuffle. He was too startled to do anything else. Were these two separate potential kidnappers? What was happening? He didn’t understand. He knew he should take Peter and get Clint and get out, but it was like watching a train wreck. Both of the people were throwing punches and neither of them seemed to be dodging. Should he call the police? Should he go over and tell Steve and Bucky? Honestly at this point he was mostly afraid he’d have to tell the police that two people had killed each other in his friend’s backyard.

 

One of the people finally landed a good uppercut, sending the other backward onto the ground, where they lay, motionless. Tony sat motionless as well, terrified. Had he just witnessed a murder? He should really go get Clint.

 

“Boof,” Lucky said again, tail wagging, and Tony frantically shushed him before noticing… the person standing outside was lifting their hands in victory. The motion-lights caught the movement and flooded the backyard.

 

“Clint?!” Tony blurted out, shocked.

 

Clint started to do some sort of victory dance, and when the person on the ground started to move, he did a fantastic sort of twirl and kicked them so they fell again. Tony stared, confused and honestly at a loss for how to react.

 

Clint did another twirl but this time he slipped on some mud and fell down.

 

Tony wondered how such a disaster could be used for a protection detail, then shook the thought off and hurried to put on his robe, grab his gun, and run outside.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

“This was a bad idea and you need to go back inside right now,” Clint said calmly as soon as Tony approached him. He put his hand on the small of Tony’s back and ushered him back toward the house. “Also thanks for bringing the gun but please put it back in the safe.”

 

“But it should be fine,” Tony tried to insist, but allowed Clint to gently take it from his hands to check if the safety was on just the same. “I have a license. I’ve been trained. I know weapon safety.”

 

“I’m sure you do,” Clint assured. “But please put the gun away and stay inside while I wait for the police. The gun wasn’t used, and the threat is down. The gun will just escalate the situation. We want this to be quick and easy.”

 

Tony really wanted to keep the gun on hand, just in case, but he could see the merit in Clint’s calm suggestion. “Alright,” he agreed reluctantly, feeling useless.

 

“If you don’t want to sit around with your thumb up your ass, you could text Tasha and keep her abreast of the situation,” Clint suggested, as if sensing Tony needed a task, needed to feel like he’d helped somehow. “She was really pissed off that you didn’t text her about needing to go over to Steve and Bucky’s that last time.”

 

“I didn’t want to bother her,” Tony mumbled, frowning.

 

Clint smiled a little. “I get that. She’s scary. But she’s your lawyer, man. You’re kind of _supposed_ to bother her.”

 

“I guess,” Tony sighed.

 

“And it’ll probably be better if she hears it from you rather than the police,” Clint added.

 

Tony remembered Natasha’s thunderous expression when she confronted him about having to hear from Bucky that he’d run over to their house for safety while someone tried to break into Rhodey’s house. He could definitely imagine how pissed she’d be if she had to find out from the police, or worse—Clint himself.

 

“Okay,” he agreed, still feeling useless, but glad for the task. “Okay.”

 

“Let Lucky out when you go in, okay?” Clint added. “I shoved him inside to protect you guys when he started growling but I had actually brought him out to poop when I noticed this guy fiddling with the gate to the fence.”

 

“Okay,” Tony said again, and stepped aside when he opened the door.

 

Lucky came rushing out. He ran to the person still prone on the ground and bared his teeth, then ran in a circle around him before lifting his leg.

 

“HE’S PEEING ON ME!” the man on the ground bellowed.

 

“If I’m lucky he’ll poop on you too,” Clint retorted immediately.

 

Tony maybe, possibly allowed for a slightly hysterical giggle as he went back inside to text Natasha.

 

[To: Romanoffanova]

So just a head’s up, Clint has beaten someone up and the police are on their way.

 

[From: Romanoffanova]

Noted. I’ll be there soon.

 

[To: Romanoffanova]

You don’t have to do that, I’m sure I can handle the police.

 

[From: Romanoffanova]

    

 

[To: Romanoffanova]

I don’t know how you managed to send me a blank text and yet somehow I can imagine the face you’re making perfectly. Consider me officially cowed. I’ll make coffee.

 

[From: Romanoffanova]

Make waffles

 

[To: Romanoffanova]

Okay. Hey, by the way, I think Clint jumped off the roof onto the guy breaking into the yard? Or maybe I imagined that.

 

[From: Romanoffanova]

No, he was definitely up there.

 

Tony stared at his phone, frowning. He didn’t know if that made him more or less confused, honestly.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Tony was actually glad that Natasha came. And he was glad that he’d put the gun away too.

 

The police had had a lot of questions that he didn’t know how to answer, like why he was staying at a home that wasn't his anyway, and had only grudgingly accepted his explanation that he was house sitting when Natasha arrived with signed documentation from Rhodey (which, where had she gotten that? _When?_ ). They hadn’t believed him when he’d said that he didn’t know the guy, either, especially when they found a picture of Peter in his back pocket. But Tony really _hadn’t_ recognized the man, had never seen him before in his life, and he was flustered when the cops insisted that the man had his son’s picture, so he must know—

 

Natasha had taken over with her typical icy efficiency, explained estranged marriages and police harassment. The cops had backed down, then, but it still made Tony nervous, afraid to call them again if something else happened. Would they think he couldn’t care for Peter properly, that he wasn’t safe with him? Would they take Peter away? Would they put him in a foster home, or would they—would they give him to Stone?

 

Tony would do anything to keep Stone from getting his hands on Peter. He would die before he let that happen. He would fake his death and change his name and take Peter away. He would take Peter back to the adoption agency. He would even go after Tiberius himself and rip his head from his neck—

 

“Okay, Tony,” Clint murmured, gently curling his fingers around Tony’s wrists. “I think you’ve gotten all the juice you’re going to get out of this orange.”

 

Tony stared down at his hands, shaking, to where he’d squeezed the orange down to the rind. He peeled his fingers away from the juicer, off the orange, and placed them on the counter instead, gripping tight enough that his knuckles went white. He felt so helpless. He just wanted control of… of _something_. And he was beginning to realize that there was very little he actually could. It was all out of his hands now.

 

He wondered if he’d ever been in control at all, going from his overbearing parents to his abusive husband.

 

“So,” Natasha said, coming back into the house and looking pissed. “One of our biggest problems is apparently someone weaseled your friend’s gate code from his fucking niece—”

 

“Don’t say it like that,” Tony snapped immediately, and she stopped abruptly, mouth closing with click. “Lila is seven years old. Don’t—don’t talk about her like that.”

 

Natasha shuffled where she stood, looking uncharacteristically chastised for once. “Tony, I..”

 

“She’s seven years old and she shouldn’t have to worry about keeping things super secret just because I had to go and marry the world’s biggest abusive piece of shit. It’s not her fault. I told Rhodey but I forgot to tell Mama Rhodes. It’s not—it’s not her fault.” Tony felt all the anger drain out of him abruptly, instead just feeling cold.

 

He hadn’t told Mama Rhodes, or Terrence, hadn’t warned them that his life was imploding and the shrapnel might hit the people he loved. He’d figured Rhodey might have told them, but maybe he hadn’t gotten a chance, or maybe he told them the bare bones of ‘it’s to keep Tony and Peter safe’ to allow Tony some privacy, or maybe he’d withheld the information because he thought _that_ would keep them safe. And now Stone had sent someone after them to get information. They’d sent someone after _Lila_.

 

“Tony,” Clint barked, and it was only when he felt the blond’s arm wrap around his waist and pull him upright that he realized he’d been slowly sinking to the ground.

 

“I think I need to sit down,” Tony said, voice small.

 

Clint helped him to the couch, and Natasha grabbed a cup of coffee and curled his hands around it as if she sensed he needed something warm to hold onto, to ground him. Tony stared into the cup without taking a sip until long after it had grown cold.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

 _“Jim told us that you were staying at his place but didn’t say why. Are you okay, honey? Do you need anything?”_ Roberta asked once Tony had stopped talking.

 

Tony swallowed down a sob and covered his mouth just in case it tried to escape again. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. He’d called her at three o’clock in the morning for fear that someone would approach Lila again, had been ready to be reamed out for not warning them sooner, and instead here Roberta Rhodes was, asking him if he was alright and if he needed their help.

 

 _“I’ll make up a care package,”_ Roberta decided when he still failed to answer. _“Like I did when you and Jim were in school. And if you’re still there come summer, we’ll come to visit you. Not gonna make you leave the safety net they’ve made for you.”_

 

“You—you don’t have to do that,” Tony managed to stammer out before she could continue. “We’re fine. I—”

 

 _“Rubbish,”_ Roberta cut in. _“You’re not fine, but I knew the minute you choked down my sweet potato pie even though you hated it that you would claim you were fine even if you were bleeding out on my carpet.”_

 

“I don’t… I don’t hate your sweet potato pie…”

 

 _“Tony, you hate sweet potatoes, yams, and you’re quite possible the only white person I know who hates pumpkin pie,”_ Roberta retorted. _“I allow you to get away with being this strange because you’re the only one besides me who likes key lime pie.”_

 

“...’s refreshing…”

 

 _“In any case, this is not a hardship for us,”_ Roberta added. Her tone left no room for argument. _“Besides, Lila is very excited to have a new cousin to play with. I know he’s younger, but she’s happy to have someone closer to her age in the family. I’ve seen the picture on Jim’s phone background. He looks incredibly happy. You both do.”_

 

Tony couldn’t choke back the sob this time. Sometimes he really wondered. Peter seemed happy enough, but then something would happen, like a car backfiring making Tony jump, or Tony pacing just a little too anxiously while he tried to play with a puzzle, or he’d hear someone raise their voice, and he’d curl up like an armadillo, all quiet and scared. Everyone told him that he was so good with Peter, that Peter was happy, thriving even.

 

But coming from Roberta Rhodes—the woman who had taken him under her wing without a word when Rhodey had brought him home over spring break, fifteen and trying so hard to be likable and failing miserably—it felt as if she’d pinned the Medal of Honor of Parenthood to his breast.

 

“When this is all over, we’re taking a vacation,” Tony whispered. “Me and Peter, we’re going anywhere but here. And I’m taking you guys with us.”

 

Roberta had always balked at Tony spending his money on them, but this time she just very kindly said, _“That would be nice, Tony.”_

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Peter was very pleased to find Natasha there the next morning. He was so pleased that he climbed on top of her instead of Tony or Lucky. The noise Natasha made as he clambered over her stomach was beautifully horrible and Tony would always regret not getting a recording of it.

 

“Auntie ‘tash!” Peter shrieked happily. “Daddy’s makin’ waffuhs!”

 

“Yay,” Natasha wheezed. “Peter, sweetie, can you please get off my diaphram.”

 

Peter obediently slid off of her, ignorant of the way she winced and whimpered when he jammed his knee into her kidney. “Waffuhs and whipped cweam, Auntie ‘tash!” He pulled at her arm until she sat up, yawning and wiping the grit from her eyes. “C’mon! We gotta eat befowe Cwint gets up!”

 

“There’ll be plenty of waffles for everyone,” Tony assured them as Natasha helped get Peter into his booster seat. “I am upset and coping with it by making waffles, so even Lucky can have some.”

 

“Tony, I’m going to tell you this once and hope to God it sticks,” Natasha said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Dogs are not supposed to eat people food. That’s what that giant bag of kibble is for.  Do not give Lucky people food. No matter what Clint says, he is not an expert on dogs.”

 

“So he can’t get Wucky to poop on peopoh?” Peter asked.

 

Natasha immediately spit out the coffee she’d been sipping.

 

Tony regretted not recording that as well even as he asked, “Why do you think Clint can get Lucky to poop on people?”

 

“I heawd him last night in the backyard,” Peter said, shrugging.

 

Tony felt all the joviality leave him in a rush. “You. You did?”

 

Peter nodded, pushing his fork around in circles. “Yeah.”

 

Before Tony could get too worried or upset, Clint appeared from the hallway, yawning widely enough that his jaw cracked. Lucky was trotting happily beside him. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

 

“You think it’s appropriate for Lucky to poop on people?” Natasha asked, before Tony could say something that might tip Peter off that he’d heard something a lot scary than he had the night before.

 

Clint scoffed. “He only poops on Bucky. I don’t see what the problem is.”

 

“...Wh,” Tony began, but had no idea what he wanted to ask first, so he just fell silent again.

 

“Why he poop on Buch?” Peter asked, sure of what he wanted answered immediately.

 

“He knows what he did,” Clint told Peter seriously, before his eyes drifted over to Tony and he brightened. “Great! Waffles!”

 

Tony stared at him, confused and somewhat frightened. He made sure to serve Peter and Natasha first though.

 

From the way Clint shrugged and lounged in his seat, Tony was pretty sure there were no hard feelings about it, at least.


End file.
